


My Memento

by heylittleangel



Series: Supernatural Bingos [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dead Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Hurt, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt No Comfort, M/M, previous mcd, something you could call a plot twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22534894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heylittleangel/pseuds/heylittleangel
Summary: Memento:an object kept as a reminder or souvenir of a person or event.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Supernatural Bingos [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1459561
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24
Collections: Writers of Destiel Writer's Choice Bingo





	My Memento

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, peeps, how have you been? I wrote this one for the WoD bingo and my square was "Memento". Obviously, I had to turn it into angst but I hope you enjoy it anyway, because I'm actually happy about it. :)

Driving was never something Castiel enjoyed doing, especially when he had his wings; it was slow, bumpy, and stressful most of the time. His wings would take him anywhere he wanted in fractions of seconds and he barely even felt the trip; he blinked and he was already there. But, after meeting Dean and Sam, that slowly started to change; the drives turned relaxing and fun, and he was able to meet different places when they drove from one hunt to the other, seeing more and more of Earth’s beauties.

His favourite times were when he and Dean would go on a drive together, just the two of them, and nothing but a never-ending road ahead of them. They would talk or just stay in comfortable silence for some time. Castiel enjoyed watching Dean drive, the peaceful expression on his face such a contrast from what he was used to; Dean was in his space and in peace, and it showed. It was always good to see him like that and a very rare occasion, so Castiel always enjoyed it. Even when Castiel had his wings, he would still stay with Dean as he drove because he was finally learning to enjoy it more than flying; as weird as it may have seemed, it gave Castiel a different sense of freedom and it was good.

He also liked to see how Dean took care of the Impala, rebuilding her time after time and always leaving the little details that made her be his; the brothers’ initials carved in it, the little army man crammed in the ashtray, and the lego pieces stuck in the vents. Every time they used the heater and they could hear them rattle, Castiel could see the small smile that came to Dean’s lips and he would smile too; not for the same reason it made Dean smile but because it made him happy to see how those little details mattered so much to Dean when it would probably annoy anyone else.

But, as Castiel drove out of the highway and into the empty space in the middle of the woods, those things only brought pain to him; remembering Dean’s smile, the rattle of the lego pieces, the initials seeming to burn a hole in the car, and all the memories that made the Impala feel like his home too. Without Dean, none of those things were happy or cheerful; they were painful and reminded him of a different time, a  _ happier _ time. The car didn’t feel like home anymore; it was like a prison that was made entirely for him and that he would never be free of.

Not having Dean there, with his loud music as he sang along, Baby wasn’t the same; Castiel could not picture the Impala without Dean there, it was impossible. Even when he and Sam drove back to the bunker after burning Dean’s body, it wasn’t the same; Sam didn’t look as comfortable as Dean did in her, none of the songs were cheerful without Dean singing along, and her purr wasn’t the same. Nothing was.

Castiel understood why Sam didn’t want to keep her and he couldn’t blame him; he didn’t either but he couldn’t let go of her because she was his memento from Dean, the last thing he had from him. As painful as it was, it was one of the last memories he had from Dean. Their last ride together, the hours they spent away, stargazing during the night with their fingers intertwined between them, Castiel telling Dean about the universe and what he was able to see when he had his wings; the last “I love you” Dean had said to him, right before he snuggled closer to Castiel, his head resting on Castiel’s chest, and fell asleep.

He could never watch her going to someone else that wasn’t family; maybe Sam’s child—if ever had one—or Charlie or Kevin or Claire. Castiel could never do that and he was sure Dean wouldn’t want it either. So he took care of her the best way he could, remembering everything Dean taught him during the years, and then drove away, no destination in mind. Castiel would only stop to fill her tank before driving off again. If he was completely honest to himself, he would say he was running away; from the bunker, from Sam, from the memories he had with Dean there, even from Charlie and Kevin and Claire. He just couldn’t stand there, all of them coming to him and asking him how he was doing, offering condolences and telling stories about Dean. 

Castiel didn’t want to be disrespectful but wanted to tell all of them to go away and to leave him the hell alone; the only thing he could do was feel the loss and the grief, and he didn’t want anyone to see him doing it. He wanted to cry and scream and throw things to the other side of the room, yell at his father and at Death for being unjust and taking Dean away from him so early.

But he couldn’t do any of those things in the bunker so he decided to go away; drive away, to the other side of the country if he needed to, or maybe to Canada or Mexico, and be alone. He could listen to the same five albums Dean listened to, pretend he could still hear Dean’s voice by his side, and pretend everything was fine if he just  _ pretended _ . No one was there to judge him or tell him he couldn’t do it; no one would know and he could live like that for a while. Living in denial was something Dean did constantly so Castiel could do it as well, at least until he got old, died, and joined Dean in Heaven.

As he finally stepped out of the car, Castiel shivered at the cold breeze, tightening his coat around him and burying his hands in his pockets. It was already dark and the first signs of autumn were starting to show; the leaves were turning yellow, the sun was coming down earlier, and the temperature was dropping. It seemed to match Castiel humour perfectly and he could only call it irony. But it was nice and he would rather see things that way rather than everything seeming to be doing better than him.

He slid onto the hood of the Impala, pulling his knees to his chest and raising his head to watch the sky. He knew that the human concept that Heaven is in the sky wasn’t entirely true but he couldn’t help but wonder; if it was true, then maybe he could see Dean from there or maybe Dean was seeing him. It was a comforting thought to have and it made him feel slightly better. 

The next breeze that hit him was colder and it made Castiel shiver, pulling the coat to cover his legs. The cold didn’t subside and soon he was shaking with it. His breath started to come out in white puffs of air and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. When Castiel finally noticed it, his eyes widened; he knew those signs and they could only mean one thing: ghost. He was jumping out of the hood in seconds, hurrying to the trunk of the Impala and fighting to get it open.

He froze in the spot when something flickered in his peripheral vision, making him raise his head to look at it. The image flickered a few more times, getting closer and closer to him, and Castiel couldn’t move to save his life; he only stared at it as it got clearer, steadier, and closer. It took a human form and the clothes were like the ones that Castiel had only seen in two people, Sam and Dean. It couldn’t be Sam but Castiel couldn’t believe in the alternative; they had burned Dean’s body and he couldn’t be back. He  _ had _ to be in Heaven, where he deserved to be.

When the ghost finally showed itself, close enough for Castiel to touch it, his eyes welled up with tears and he couldn’t do anything but stare at it; the freckled cheeks and nose, the messy, dark blonde hair, the greenest eyes Castiel had ever seen, even slightly grayer, the broad shoulders. There wasn’t anyone else that matched that description but Castiel still couldn’t believe in his own eyes, even when the ghost smiled at him.

“Dean?”

**Author's Note:**

> So, did you like it? Leave a comment and a kudo, and leave this writer very happy!
> 
> As always, you can find me on [ tumblr](https://gii-heylittleangel.tumblr.com/)


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